Love Struck (Miss Match #2) (34 page)

Though the same could be said of Andy—more so even—so Lacy had never really counted it as a true flaw until that very moment.

Now she wished she’d let the argument die. Or, more, she wished she could find the words that could bring them together because they were so close. He’d admitted he loved her, she’d admitted she loved him—what else was left standing between them?

Eli apparently also wanted a truce. His head bowed as he ran his hand through his hair. When he brought his gaze back to hers, his expression was soft and regretful. “Look. I was wrong, okay? I made a mistake. I wasn’t trying to make your choices for you. I was trying to be … I don’t know … noble. I saw two people that I love—two people who haven’t had the easiest time as of late—coming together, fixing each other, and I … shit, I didn’t think I had the right to step in and mess that up.”

He brought his hand up to his chest, clutching his fist almost in that weird way Jax always did except with actual meaning. “But please, please know that I wasn’t pushing you away because I didn’t want you. Even now I want to pull you into my arms and kiss all of this away. Letting go of you has been hell, Lacy. Pure hell.”

Oh, how she wanted that too. To be in his arms, kissing away all the misunderstanding. “Then do it.”

His brow furrowed while he seemed to try to remember what it was he’d said he’d wanted.

In that brief pause, Lacy realized what it was that was still standing between them. And it was too big not to address even if it meant she was dragging the argument out further. “See,
that’s
the problem, Eli. You talk about love like it’s supposed to make everything better with its magical properties, but that only happens in romance novels. Real life doesn’t work like that. You can’t fix someone else, no matter how much you want to. Believe me, I know that now. It was never your job to fix me. And you can’t fix Jax.”
Just like I couldn’t fix Jax, even if he was Folx. Couldn’t fix Lance. Can’t fix anyone but me.
“That has nothing to do with how much you love someone.”

Eli started to say something, but she stopped him with a single finger and continued. “But let me tell you what love really is. It’s standing up for that person. Standing beside them. Having the courage to go after them. Not coddling them or giving them up in some patronizing show of nobility. When’s the last time you fought for the people—the things—you loved? Fought for your songs or your career or for yourself even? You’ve mentioned concern for Jax, but when have you actually fought for him? Because letting him have his way isn’t how that works. That’s not how
any
of this works. Like me … you love me? That means you go after me. That means you stay. That means you don’t say words that are flowery and beautiful and hope that’s enough.”

Lacy had a feeling she was talking as much about Lance now as she was Eli. It didn’t matter—the same principles applied. “Love means you don’t give it away; I don’t care what the old
set it free
cliché tells you.” It wasn’t necessarily the best line to end with, but she didn’t have anymore to say without repeating herself. Besides, she’d said a lot already, and Eli had listened to her patiently.

Now it was her turn to listen to whatever rebuttal he might have. But he simply said, “You’re right.” Then, after a beat, “So now what?”

They were the words she’d posed to him when they’d finally decided that they’d meet in person. What a different place they were in now. It was actually a very good question that exposed the problem with delivering fantastic words of advice—the words usually required some sort of follow-up. Follow-up that often demanded action on the part of those who offered the advice as well as those who received it.

It seemed, perhaps, a good time for her to leave—then hope that he might follow. She shifted, half turning to go before realizing she might want to communicate her plan. Just taking off after a question was asked was not only rude but also confusing, and there had been enough confusion between them already.

She cleared her throat and lifted her head. “Now I’m going to walk away. You have to decide what you’re going to do about it.” Then she walked to the edge of the building and turned the corner.

Once she was out of sight, it took everything not to stop and lean against the outside wall of The Night Owl. Her confrontation had taken a lot of strength, but she couldn’t cop out now. Besides, Eli would follow. Of course he would.

Except that he didn’t. Even after she slowed her steps, she still made it to the curb without him stopping her. Had she been too harsh with her words? Had he decided that she really wasn’t worth fighting for after all? Or was he actually the coward she’d accused him of being?

She refused to go back. She’d been humiliated enough for one day. What could she do then but keep going?

A single tear slipped down her face, but she wiped it away and stuck out her hand to hail a cab.

*   *   *

Eli stood in one place for longer than he intended to, soaking in Lacy’s words. They stung, made him feel less manly than he liked to feel. But what struck him most was their accuracy. He’d been dead-on when he said she knew him.

He also liked that she was willing to challenge him, because he needed that in his life more than he’d realized. She’d pushed him, then walked away—which was really in direct opposition to her speech about staying and fighting—but he could forgive her for that. It wasn’t her that needed the testing; it was him.

So what was he going to do about it? He was going to go after her, of course.

He broke into a grin as he took his first steps in the direction she’d gone. His first steps toward being the man she deserved.

Before he’d gotten more than three steps toward his destiny, though, the back door of the theater opened and Lou stuck his head out. “Eli! Thank God. Come with me. I need you.”

There was a note of panic in Lou’s voice, yet Eli was focused on his mission. “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of—”

Lou cut him off. “It’s Jax. He’s hurt. The ambulance is on the way.”

Eli’s smile faltered as alarm spread through his body at lightning speed. He’d heard those words before—
he’s hurt
. Last time, he’d arrived at the hospital and found slits in Jax’s wrists.

Still, though he knew to take the message seriously, he paused now. There was a part of him—a really selfish asshole part of him—that wanted to ignore Lou and go after Lacy. He needed to prove himself to her, and abandoning her now was not the time.

But Eli didn’t just love his songbird. He also loved Jax, current states of their friendship notwithstanding, and as Lacy had pointed out, he’d done a shit job of proving that as of late.

So right now he had to go fight for Jax. But after, he’d fight for Lacy too.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Eli paced the small area beside the hospital bed while the nurse added another dose of pain meds to the IV running in a long clear line into Jax’s arm.

“This one should really make a difference with the pain,” she said. She turned to the others in the room—Lou, Eli, and Wes who had arrived just a few minutes before. “You boys can stay until the surgical prep team gets in here which should be within the next half hour or so. After that, I’ll show you to the waiting area.”

“Thank you.” Lou nodded in appreciation as the nurse slipped out of the emergency room.

It was the first time they’d been alone with Jax since arriving at the hospital almost two hours earlier. Well, the first time they’d been alone that he was actually calm. Before the first dose of pain meds kicked in, Jax had been screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs while the doctors examined his injury. Eli and Lou had been in the waiting room then and could hear him through the thick doors that separated them from the ER.

While they waited, Lou made all the phone calls. He talked to Sammy and asked her to inform the rest of the tour members that the show was canceled for the night without giving any details. He called Wes to be another point of support. He called the manager at the venue and apologized for the inconvenience.

It was after he’d finished all his other calls that Lou got the text. “Dawson’s going home until the tour resumes,” he told Eli. “I guess that’s best at this point.”

For a moment, Eli felt his chest collapsing with disappointment. Then he realized Lou was right—it was best at this point. This didn’t mean Eli and Lacy were done. Not if he had anything to say about it, and he intended to have a lot to say about it.

He knew he should call her, or text her at least, but he just … didn’t. The things he wanted to say to her—and do to her—required them to be face-to-face. Besides, he had a few things he needed to get settled before he could really fight for her the way he wanted to.

Like Jax.

When Lou and Eli were finally allowed back to see Jax, they still didn’t get a chance to really talk with him. His room had been a constant in and out of doctors and technicians and nurses. He’d been taken for an X-ray, and immediate surgery had been ordered. Then, another visit from the nurse as Jax’s pain, and temper, flared up again.

Now—finally—he was calm.

In fact he was smiling a little like when he’d gotten drunk on Nyquil that one time in college.

“Feeling a bit better?” Lou asked. “Well, as better as you can feel considering?”

“Yeah, man. I really am.”

Though they’d heard a few details of the story from the staff, Eli had to know. HIPAA had censored all the good bits. “So what exactly happened? Exactly…”

“Ah, you want the details.”

“No, I don’t. I really, really don’t. I want a brief summary.”

Wes leaned forward in his chair. “
I
want the details.”

Jax beamed. “Well. Chelle and I were getting it on. Like, ah-ha-haaawn. We were on this big oak desk and I was under her while she was doing this reverse cowgirl thing.” He started to buck his hips and describe shapes with his hands, boob and butt shapes, demonstrating.

“Should you be doing that?” Eli wasn’t even sure
how
he was doing it with all the equipment he had connected to him. Or with all the drugs he had in him, although that explained the sudden drawl.

“I’m totally fine right now. The morphine has so kicked in. So-hooo kicked in. Anyway, then she did this backbend and kissed me. That’s when I heard the crack.”

All the men groaned in unison, and Eli shifted as nonchalantly as he could, his crotch suddenly feeling very vulnerable and unprotected.

“Oh, God, I can’t…” Lou trailed off.

“It actually made a crack noise?” Wes asked in awe.

“Swear to God,” Jax nodded. “Followed by immense, thought-I-was-dying pain. I’m pretty sure I passed out.”

“You did,” Lou confirmed. “That’s when that chick of yours came to find me. You were just coming to when I got there.”

Jesus, it sounded terrible.

Wes leaned forward in his chair. “A backbend, though. Dude!”

“I know, right?” Jax drug-hazed grin also showed a fair amount of pride. “Chelle’s a gymnast.”

“High-five, man.”

God, they were ridiculously juvenile. High-fiving over broken equipment? Eli couldn’t begin to understand. “And where is Chelle now? She didn’t think she should see you to the hospital?”

“She offered, but I said hell no. I don’t need to have any press leaks attaching me to a specific girl. Not good for my bachelor rep.” Jax waggled his eyebrows around, held up a wavering hand for another high-five that nobody took.

“What press leaks? What rep? Do you have some secret celebrity identity that I’m unaware of?” Eli was genuinely confused.

“Damn, you have a stick up your ass today, don’t you? Maybe if you’re nice I’ll share some of my meds with you later. It will chill you out.” The hand was still just wobbling around in space. It was becoming distracting.

“I don’t need meds and I don’t need to chill,” Eli tried to say in a placating voice. The guy had been through enough, but even he could hear the hard edge was still in his voice.

“Is this still about earlier? You’d think you’d give me a break considering my condition.” The hand began a familiar vague gesture.

“Yes, this is about earlier. Not just earlier today, but even before that. And give you a break? That’s exactly what I’m giving you. But I meant what I said this morning—I’m not giving you my songs anymore. And I’m not giving you my sympathy. I’m giving you notice. The Blue Hills are done. There’s your break.” So much for placation. The dude had broken his junk. May as well give him the broken-band news too. At least he had morphine.

Wes sat up, his eyes wide. “You’re quitting the band?”

“Eli, he’s about to go into surgery. Do you really think this is the time or the place for this conversation?” Lou’s hands began to do wiggly things similar to Jax’s, but his were born of horror, not forgetfulness.

“Probably not, Lou, but this can’t wait. See, I think half the reason Jax keeps doing these stupid things”—no, he needed to direct this at the guilty party—“I think half the reason
you
keep doing these stupid ass things is because you think you have to. You think you have to be an ass to be a star. Or that you have to contribute to the songwriting to be part of the band. You don’t think that what you are is good enough. So you show up late and change my songs and cut your wrists, all so you’ll be noticed.”

Jax lowered his head and studied his hospital gown. “It was for art,” he mumbled, though not with as much conviction as he usually did.

“Here’s the thing, Jax. It backfired. You cried wolf and instead of getting noticed, you made us—you made
me
—want to ignore you. Or put up with you. But I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not putting up with you. Because I notice you. And I love you, Jax.” Eli shot a glance at the drummer in the corner. “I love you like a brother, J. You’re a talented son of a bitch. You used to believe that. You’re the person who first inspired me. You still inspire me and I want you to be happy. And I don’t think you’re happy at all. I think you’re faking it.”

Jax peeked up at Eli. “Everybody’s faking it.”